The Prince and the Imposter
by Starry Eyed Artist
Summary: A Leviathan spin on Beauty and the Beast. Alek is a young prince who is hiding away in a small village and Deryn is a servant in the legendary Leviathan Darwinist Manor, also known simply as the Leviathan. A flicker of cruel fate brought them together, so while Alek recovers from an injury, Deryn has to keep her secret from being discovered. Rated T, just in case.
1. Chapter 1

Alek frowned as he noticed the sliver of sunshine peering in through his windows. He drew back the curtains and felt his eyes widen at the sight of the sun peeking it's head over the horizon. If the sun was coming up, that meant that it was morning. And if it was morning...

Klopp was going to _kill_ him if he found out that he had pulled an all-nighter—_again_.

He closed his machenikal books and neatened up his unruly stacks of paper, trying to make his desk look like he _hadn't_ just stayed up all night pouring over books about mechaniks. A sigh was pulled from his lips and he left his bedroom, combing his fingers through his hair in an attempt to disheveled it and make it appear as though he had actually slept through the night.

"Alek!" The prince paused, worry gnawing at his gut. He stopped and turned around with a smile twitching onto his lips.

"Good morning, Klopp." He greeted, scooping up his fictional books that needed to be taken back to the library.

"Where do you think you're going at the break of dawn?" Klopp was an old man, his caretaker since his parents passed away. Two years he had lived with him, learning about mechanikals and other things of that sort. It had been peaceful, once they had finished mourning. Moving out of the estate and leaving it to a family friend, they had moved to a small village pretty far away where they could mourn and get over it in peace.

"Library. I finished my books." He waved and then darted out of the house before his tutor could question him further. A blast of chilly Autumn air made him come to a stop, a smile tilting up the corners of his mouth. He walked towards the bridge that separated his small house from the rest of the village.

Mornings like this were nice, he supposed. Alek enjoyed the quiet of the mornings, right as the sun was coming over the horizon. Birds chirped around him and there were natural sounds from animals all around him. His footsteps were quiet on the wood of the bridge and they got even softer as his booted feet hit the dusty path.

"The same as every morning," he murmured to himself, counting down the seconds. Suddenly, windows were thrown open and cries of 'hello' and 'good morning' rang out across the way. It took very little time for the streets to fill up with chatter of vendors and the rumble of wheels on the cobblestones. Alek smiled. He jumped onto a cart that was wheeling by, holding onto his books with one arm and keeping a grip on the wood with his other hand. He caught little snippets of everyday conversation and felt a low rumble of laughter form in his throat.

"How is your family?"

"How is your wife?"

"I need six eggs!"

"Four pounds!"

"That's too expensive!"

Alek heard the same things over and over, every single day. It was starting to get boring, and he felt himself wanting adventure more every day. Just some sort of a difference, like the characters in books. But his story wasn't a tale told in words, just a boring, repeatetive life. He wanted _more_.

Finally he saw the library and he released the cart, bidding the driver a quick thanks before ducking into the shop with a grin on his face.

"Oh, Alek!" The librarian beamed at him as he came in.

"Good morning—I've brought back your books." Handing iver the stack, he felt his grin grow wider at the man's exasperated expression.

"What will it be this time?" Alek pondered the question for a moment before scampering up the ladder and pulling down an old favorite of his.

"This one!" He declared, as though he were a small child once again, begging for candy and then pulling out what he wanted.

"That one?" The librarian guffawed. "You've read it so many times!"

"It's a favorite." Alek admitted, rubbing his neck. He smiled a bit awkwardly at the librarian, green eyes glinting. The librarian shook his head with a mutter in German.

"All right—it's yours." He said calmly. The boy's eyes widened a sliver and he gaped for a moment before closing his mouth.

"But sir, this is—" a hand was held up to quiet him, so the young heir to the Austrian throne fell silent.

"It's yours." He repeated. "If you love it, than you can have it."

"Thank you," Alek said in a hushed voice, smiling. "Thank you so much."

He scurried out, clutching his book against his chest with a wide, dopey grin on his lips. He opened it and moved about the city, only halfway laying attention to where he was going as he read. He heard someone dump their dirty water in the drain pipe attached to their house, directly above him. He lifted his hand and used the shop sign to deflect it. His feet hit the wood of a flat cart and it tilted with his weight. Too engulfed in his book, he failed to hear the crack of wood against a villager's jaw.

"Alek!" He barely glanced up at his name, knowing that voice much too well. He didn't really want to talk to Lilit right now. So, he did the logical thing and ignored it. "Hey, I'm talking to you."

Fingers tilted his book down and he sighed, placing his thumb on the page he was on and shutting the book. He raised his bright green eyes to meet the almost black ones of the most wanted girl in the town. She gave him a smile, curling some hair around her finger.

"What do you want, Lilit?" Alek asked tiredly. He wanted to go home and reread his book, chat with Klopp about mechaniks, _anything_ but speak to this little nuisance.

"Well, _you_, for starters. But maybe we could go to dinner sometime?" Lilit gave him a smile, eyes twinkling.

"No thank you." He declined politely, opening his book and moving past her in the most impolite way possible. He didn't care if her father was the head of the city, he was a prince for God's sake. Not that anyone here knew that.

"Where are you going, then?" Lilit demanded. "Spending the night with that mad old inventor of yours?"

Alek grit his teeth, holding his tongue wisely. Klopp was a genius, as far from mad as you could ever get. He was determined to prove that to her—to _everyone_—no matter what. He also couldn't tell her that Klopp was going out of town for a little while.

"It's none of your business." He responded curtly.

"If I'm to be your future wife, it well is." Alek recoiled, taking a step away from her. Yes, Lilit was pretty, but he didn't want her in that way— in _any_ way, for that matter! They were friends at the very beginning, until she started up all this wanting him nonsense.

"Well, you aren't, so it's not." Alek puppy-eared his page and strode away, breaking out into a run the moment he got the chance. He made it across the bridge in a few nimble strides and thrust the door to his home open. He shut it behind him, sagging against it with a groan. He went into the kitchen, expecting to find Klopp, but was instead greeted by a note.

_Headed off already. Take care, don't stay up all night._

_Be back in a couple of days._

_-Klopp_

A smile quirked onto Alek's lips and he let out a small laugh. He opened his book and curled up in a chair to read again, flipping the pages. He fell asleep after a little while, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

When he awoke, the sun had started setting. He really wasn't too terribly surprised—he had gone three days straight without any sleep. The prince decided he should probably stop doing that, but he knew there was no way he was going to stick to that commitment.

Well, at least he _knew_ that.

There was a scratching at the door and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He stood up and opened the door, looking around for the source of the scratching. Then he looked down.

"Bovril—?" Alek let out an exclamation as the small creature darted away and then waited for him. He donned his traveling cloak and closed the door behind him. He broke out at a run after Klopp's little companion, worry twisting at his gut. It led him to the forest where he felt unease stir in the sensible part of his brain.

Bovril had disappeared into the foliage, causing the young prince to almost have a heart attack, and came back with a spooked horse. It was Klopp's horse, the one he had taken when he had left.

Oh god.

Almost vaulting into the saddle, Alek grabbed the reins. Bovril nestled its way into the hood of his cloak as he dug his heels into the horse's side, spurring it forward. It went off like a shot in the direction it had come, it's rider clinging to it's back as though his life depended on it. It didn't take long for that to become the actual situation. Bovril squealed out a word it had heard many times before from Alek's out-loud reading; "Lupus!"

_Wolves_.

Alek spared a glance behind him and saw a group of them catching up, and fast. He urged his horse into a gallop and it sped up, almost tripping in the mud and causing his heart to leap into his mouth. The wolves cried out from behind them and he knew they were closing in.

He let out a loud cry as they cleared the foliage, a large iron gate appearing before them. The horse whinnied and reared up onto its hind legs, striking out with its front hooves. Alek yelled in both shock and panic as he fell off, a nasty crack coming from beneath him as he hit the ground. A searing pain shot up his leg, like liquid fire being injected into his bloodstream. The wolves were prowling towards them and Brovil let out a similar growl, imitating them. Its fur stuck up in all directions as it attempted to display aggression—if Alek was being truthful, it was too cute to be scary.

The pain in his leg and the terror that clawed at his heart was too much and he almost passed out right then and there. Then the wolves were running, fleeing instead of advancing, and there were arms around him and a flickering golden light washing across the dark forest.

"You're going to be okay." A voice murmured in his ear.

He tried to look at who was helping him, but the pain made it so much harder to shift any part of his body. Everything was starting to go black and fuzzy and he panicked. He caught sight of blonde hair and a gleam of blue, managing to croak out a single word before he passed out, gripping deathly tight into the fabric of his savior's shirt.

"_Klopp_,"


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you think he's alive?"

"He's still breathing. He still has a pulse."

"That was a nasty break he got. He's just resting."

"You sound like you're trying to reassure yourself more than anyone else, Mr. Sharp."

"I am _not_."

"Volger, Mr. Sharp, _stop_."

Alek managed to force his eyes open, three blurry figures standing around his bed. His vision took a moment to sharpen, but he was able to see the three strangers more clearly once it did. One was a woman in her early thirties, probably, and another was a thin man with a mustache. The middle one caught his attention more than the other two, with his neatly cut blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was probably sixteen, if Alek could gauge anything.

"Water," he rasped out, catching the attention of the bickering trio.

"Hey, you're awake." The boy grinned at him and reached for the bedside table.

"We will finish this discussion later, Mr. Sharp." The man, Volger was his name, swept out of the room. The woman nodded and followed after the man, leaving the two boys alone. The blonde pulled up a chair and helped Alek sit up and, despite the pain that shot through his leg, he still managed to give a soft smile to his assistant.

"Where am I?" The prince croaked, voice scratchy. The blonde didn't answer at first, choosing instead to bring the glass of water up to his companion's lips. Alek almost cried out in pure happiness as water wet his tongue and lips, soothing his throat and cooling his body.

"What's your name, redhead?"

"Alek." He responded, digging his hands into the sheets and getting a fistful. "Your name?"

"Dylan. Dylan Sharp." Dylan grinned, his entire face lighting up. He helped Alek drink the rest of the glass of water until there were only a few drops on the bottom of the glass. "You took a pretty hard fall, mate."

Alek looked at his leg, which was bound with bandages that wrapped around a cast. "Yeah… I suppose I did." He said absentmindedly. Dylan smiled.

"You hungry? I could go get you food or something." The blonde boy stood up, waiting for Alek to respond with his arms crossed.

"How long was I out?" Abrupt change of topic.

"Umm..." Dylan thought, counting on his fingers. "I found you three days ago."

"You found me?" Alek's eyes widened a fraction.

"Is there a problem with that?"

"Er... No. No, of course not."

You're going to be okay.

The words came back to him, making his gut twist. That voice had sounded so clearly feminine to him, but maybe he had just been delirious and misheard. His lips formed an 'oh' that he couldn't vocalize, and he leaned back against his pillows, burying down into them.

"This your beastie?" Bovril was in Dylan's arms, sniffing him and giggling in its slightly creepy way. The loris chirped out happy little notes, similar to a bird call, and Alek watched in wonder. Bovril had never liked anyone this much. Well, besides maybe himself.

"Uh, yeah." Smooth, Alek. "Yes, it's mine." He cleared his throat and sat back up. He beckoned to his loris, curling his fingers in a gesture back at himself. "C'mere Bovril."

"Isn't that a type of tea?" Dylan laughed. "Who came up with it?"

"An ex-friend of mine." Alek responded, tone bitter. It was true, Lilit had decided to name the loris and the name had just stuck. It infuriated him that the loris still payed Lilit's decision any attention, but at least it didn't like the woman herself. It seemed rather fond of Dylan, as it was being rather reluctant to crawl off of his shoulders. During that split section of hesitation, the blonde had tugged him off and place him in his owner's lap.

"That's barking ridiculous." Dylan said with amusement. "Cute, but absolutely ridiculous."

"Tell me about it," the prince mumbled, letting the loris creep back onto his shoulders. It looked at Dylan with a smile that only an animal could make. "You mentioned food?"

"Yeah, want me to get you something?" Alek's paranoia of poison, driven into him from when he was small, made him shake his head.

"I would rather come with you." He confessed. Dylan quirked an eyebrow but shrugged.

"You aren't supposed to be outta bed, but I'll help you." He helped ease the skeptical archduke out of bed, one arm slung over his shoulders while he held onto the prince's waist. Alek frowned a bit at the foreign contact, but decided it would be better to not say anything. It seemed to take forever to pull him onto his feet, but the moment weight was put into his bad foot, his leg crumpled beneath him and Dylan scrambled to grab him, keeping him from hitting the floor.

"Lean on me," the blonde directed. "Put all your weight on me and you should be able to walk." Alek did as directed and together the two hobbled down the corridor in the direction of the kitchen. When they got there, Dylan assisted Alek in sitting down, placing him on the counter, and then he started getting out different ingredients for some sort of food. He poured some milk into a pot, placed it onto one of the stove's eyes and sprinkled in cocoa before stirring and chatting away as he did so.

"Where're ya from, Alek?" Dylan asked.

"Er... around."

"The nearest town is a good twenty miles away." He said, peeking at the redhead in curiosity. "How'd you make your way to Leviathan?"

Leviathan? Oh, that must be the name of the manor. "I was looking for someone."

Dylan snorted. "Who is blazes would take this route?"

"My caretaker."

"Your caretaker is daft. What kind of person has a caretaker, anyways? You a prince?" Dylan was joking, but Alek's green eyes widened as he thought that the taller male had guessed who he was. But Dylan was obviously smart, and he caught the scared look. Everything clicked within that moment, and he let out a simple, "oh".

Alek cursed himself mentally, muttering out, "Dummkopf."

"So, you plan on letting anyone else 'round here know?"

"I believe I will have to." He confessed, deflating a bit. Dylan pursed his lips as he stirred the concoction in the pot with a wooden spoon.

"I'm pretty sure Volger already knows. That bum-rag's barking smart." The blonde scowled, obviously not enjoying the thought of the man. "He's a count, you know."

Alek's eyes widened. "A count?"

"Sure is." With a roll of his eyes, Dylan pulled down two thick ceramic mugs and placed them on the counter. He turned down the eye until the fire had died down completely. Picking up the pot, he poured some of the thick, brown liquid into the two mugs. He finished it off by adding spoonfuls of honey and peppermint shards. "Here you go, your princliness."

Alek raised the mug to his lips and took a long drink, eyes widening at the rich taste. "... This is delicious." He breathed. Dylan smiled, though the archduke could only see the corners of his mouth twisting up into a smile.

"Thanks." He grinned. "It's a favorite around the castle. Gimme a call if you ever want some." He gave a wink, as though it were an inside joke of sorts between them.

"I'll keep that in mind." Alek said slowly, a twinkle gleaming in his green eyes.

They continued to chatter away until both of them had finished off the pot of delicious liquid. Dylan had to carry Alek back up to the infirmary,

not wanting to risk him hobbling his way up the stairs to the third floor. So that was how he found himself clinging to the back of his new acquaintance-Dylan was referring to them as friends, so it made him wonder if he should too.

The blonde was warm, heat radiating through the fabric of both his shirt and the prince's. It was awkward, but the only comfortable way to cling was to wrap his pale arms around Dylan's neck and lay his head against the back of his companions. The silky hair tickled his face, and Alek couldn't help but breathe in his scent. He was left with a sense of disorientation when Dylan pretty much dropped him onto his bed, confusing thoughts swimming around in his mind.

He didn't notice that Dylan had left until the heavy doors banged shut, leaving him to gather his scattered thoughts.

**Here's chapter two, guys! Sorry that it took so long to get up, I've been in Mexico all week so I haven't had wifi. Or cell service...**

**Also, to my single reviewer, I am sorry to say we won't be witnessing Lilith singing that Gaston song, because I don't think I have the creative juices to write a parody that would serve her justice. But we will see the tavern scene, I promise you that. **

**Until next time! Ciao!**

**-Starry Eyed Artist**


	3. Chapter 3

Deryn leaned into her hands, tapping her pen on the edge of her paper. The thick white parchment was blank and inviting, but she couldn't bring herself to want to draw anymore. Crumpled pieces of the same parchment littered the ground around the desk, and she reminded herself that she needed to throw them away before anyone picked them up and looked at them.

"Barking princes," she mumbled in irritation. Leaning down, she scooped up all the crumbled bits and threw each into the fire pit, watching the white edges curl and blacken as they disintegrated. She got to her feet and threw the last piece into the fire before moving out into the passageways. Stuffing her hands into her pockets—those things were a godsend, they were—she let her mind go on autopilot as she wandered.

Three months. Three months, and she hadn't been discovered yet. No close calls either, which was marvelous. Nothing had come along to make her slip up in her act of being a boy. Deryn Sharp didn't live here, no, she was _Dylan Sharp_, a servant by accident and one of the best keepers this manor had seen in years. It was marvelous, being brought and kept while most the other middies were booted back to their homes.

Then an intruder appeared at their manor, lost and obviously confused. He was sent to the brig almost immediately, locked up and left to rot. He had yelled and hollered, words spluttering between broken English and fluent German. All that yelling turned to silence by the very next day, and Deryn had risked a trip to see him. She was the only one brave enough, or stupid enough, to risk it.

He had just sat there as she asked him questions softly, prying from him his name and business and anything else that could be considered useful. Otto Klopp, a mechanik from a town a few hours east on horseback. The guardian of a young man of fifteen. Deryn's heart went out to him, but she kept up her act and left soon afterwards.

Then Alek showed up with a broken leg and a concerned beastie, crying out their prisoner's name before he passed out cold in her arms. He had been so confused at the time, his green eyes wild and scared, wary like an animal. He came to a few days later, knew her as Dylan like the others, and she'd treated him with the best care she could while still being a boy. When she had carried him up from the kitchen, every place their bodies touched sent electricity shooting through her skin. It was amazing and equally as terrifying.

Now he wouldn't get out of her barking head! She growled, wanting to bang her skull into the wall and scream. She was a _boy_ now, a _keeper_, not a girl twisting her skirts at a village dance.

"Dylan?" Deryn's head shot up and she blinked, staring at the speaker. Alek stood in front of her, holding onto a thick metallic cane to support himself. His auburn hair was tousled, pushed back from his face as though he had just run his fingers through it.

"Aye? Alek, what are you doing out of the infirmary?! Are you _daft_?" She kept her tone low, not wanting it to rise and squeak, but she couldn't help the cracking that came.

"I don't want to be cooped up in there." He responded haughtily. "It's _boring_."

"Whatever. The lady boffin will probably push you back into the infirmary and strap you down." Deryn rolled her eyes and brushed past him. "Don't get yourself hurt."

"Wait," Alek attempted to hobble after her, reaching out with his free hand and grabbing her wrist. His fingers pressed into the base of her palm, sending sparks through her arm. "Can I come with you? I've got nothing else to do."

Deryn wanted to jerk her hand away, but she resisted. "You can't." She glanced down the corridor she had been walking down, teeth sliding and catching on the skin of her lip. "Middy stuff. I'll see ya later, though." Pulling her hand away, she resumed walking at a quicker pace.

"_Dylan_," Alek whined. "Please?"

"No," she said stubbornly. They were closer to the cells than she had first realized, and she knew that both the lady boffin and Volger would kill her if Alek found out that Klopp was here.

"I'm going to follow you anyways." He responded, deciding to be stubborn himself. Deryn threw her arms up with a roll of her eyes.

"Daft prince," was her only comment before she continued forward. She turned a few corners, listening to Alek's chipper commentary about the manor the entire way. She took one of the lamps they kept to keep the hallways lit before holding out in front of her as a guide. Alek fell quiet when they come to a stop in front of the cell that held the mechanik.

Deryn hung up the lamp and pulled open the heavy iron door, managing to tug it closed behind her right as Alek regained use of all his motor functions.

"Klopp!" The prince flew at the bars, reaching through them for his caretaker.

"Your Highness," Klopp moved forward, ignoring Deryn completely as she moved about the cell, checking to see how much of everything he had left since her last visit. She, in turn, ignored their fast-paced conversation in German and the short, kind-of embrace they had through the rusting metallic pipes.

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?" Alek demanded as she stepped out.

"You didn't ask." Apparently, _that_ response wasn't the best to give him. He looked outraged, green eyes lighting up angrily.

"I shouldn't have _had_ to ask!" He shrieked, voice rising an octave.

"You shouldn't be yelling at me for something I couldn't control." Deryn responded coolly, crossing her arms and leaning against the cell door. "Calm down, Alek."

"How couldn't you control it?" Alek demanded, stamping his uninjured foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Because Volger could—and _would!_—release me from duty if I even brought it up!" She argued, keeping a level head as best as she possibly could. For such a charming person, Alek could be a real brat.

"You have high standing here, Dylan," Alek's tone had turned pleading, "You have to have _some_ sort of influence."

Klopp was frowning, eyebrows knitted together to create a crease between them. "Volger?" He asked, continuing the question in German.

"Yes, Count Volger." Deryn's eyes widened a bit as Klopp spit at the ground and let out a string of what sounded an awful lot like cursing. "... Is there a problem with that?"

After a quick conversation and a lapse of irritation because Deryn_ couldn't understand what they were saying, dammit_, Alek cleared his throat and looked at her. "Well, it appears as though Volger was a good friend of my father's, whom he asked to look after me when he passed. Turns out he got caught somewhere and didn't have the ability to leave."

Deryn scoffed. "Aye, of _course_ that's correct," she said sarcastically. "He just showed up out of the blue one day, acting self righteous and talking to everyone like he owned the place. Has a bone to pick with the lady boffin from what I've heard. He's just stock full of clart, if you ask me."

Klopp nodded through the bars, speaking fast. It took Alek a moment to translate.

"Volger is on the bad side of the Darwin family, according to Klopp. Got on the wrong foot of Charles' granddaughter and now he's trying to fix it to avoid a 'disaster'." Alek shrugged. "I don't know what that could mean."

Deryn let all this new information soak in, shaking her head in the obsurdity of it all. Volger and Barlow acted more like two teenagers skirting around their feelings, and not much else.

"I'll have to keep all this in mind. I'd like to give that snooty Count as hard of a time as possible." Deryn grinned and stuck her hands in her pockets. "Anyways, I've got chores and dinner to see to. Nice talking to ya, Klopp. C'mon Alek."

Alek shifted uncomfortably. "I would prefer to stay here and speak with Klopp for a while."

She hesitated. "I guess so. Just don't let either Count Snooty or Dr. Barlow catch you."

"I won't." He promised, tracing an 'X' into the cloth over his heart. After a moments hesitation, Alek gave her a short hug. "Thank you, Dylan."

Deryn was left with a tingling sensation where Alek's arms had been on her skin and the feeling of wanting to throw up in her stomach. "Uh, sure. It's no big deal." She gave a short wave and turned, walking out of the corridor. Once she turned around the corner she sagged against the wall and tried to swallow her heart, which had leaped into her throat.

This barking prince was going to be the death of her, she just knew it. Swallowing again to force away the lump, she straightened up, checked over her clothes to make sure she looked okay, and walked off to go do her chores. Maybe it would take her mind off of daft, red-haired princes and their pretty green eyes and nice smiles and freckles and big ears...

"Barking spiders, what am I doing?" She whispered to herself.


End file.
